


Up the Hill Backwards

by MyraValhallah



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, F/M, Fantasy, Female Harry Potter, Manipulative Dumbledore, Other, Reincarnation, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 00:18:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7197449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyraValhallah/pseuds/MyraValhallah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Fem!Harry) Sarah Rose Potter, Girl Who Lived, just wants to survive Hogwarts, but fate has other ideas- she has a destiny ahead of her and a past life which keeps trying to encroach on her present… a past life which comes complete with a really annoying, and smoking hot Goblin King. It could be worse though, she could be stuck with her mother's bloody awful relatives. Eventual J/S, Sirius/OFC, other pairings TBC</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_ 31st July 1980 _

There was something in the air that late summer’s day. Jareth wasn’t entirely sure what that something was, but he could not ignore it any more than he could ignore a summons. The Goblin King had noticed it from the moment he woke that morning, a pull the likes of which he had not felt in some thirty years…

No, he could not and would not think of her- it only caused him pain to think that had she not said those six fateful words he might have been able to save her from her fate.

_NO!_

Jareth screwed his eyes shut, clamping his hands over his ears in an attempt to shut out the memory of his precious one’s screams as the ogres tore her apart whilst he was powerless to prevent it. After all: he had no power over her…

 _“Enough,”_ he ground out, hurling himself off his present perch- his bedchamber window ledge- and shifting into his owl form maybe if he followed that pull he would be able to have some peace without resorting to his ever dwindling wine cellar.

* * *

_ (Godric’s Hollow, England) _

The Goblin King followed the pull all the way to a small Aboveground town; one which had a large population of wizards, and a small quaint cottage. He followed it right inside the house, unable to resist, and found himself perched, quite invisibly thank you very much, on top of a wardrobe in one of the bedrooms. A young woman lay, sleeping in the double bed, dark red hair splayed across the pillows, but it was what stood at the foot of that bed that drew Jareth’s attention.

A cradle.

Still invisible, Jareth returned to his more typical form and approached the cot. His breath hitched at the sight of the infant within.

“You,” he whispered staring down at the sleeping newborn. “Oh you precious little thing, I might have known you would come back.”

He would know her anywhere, especially since she radiated with the magic he had bestowed upon her once upon a time. Thirty years since her life had been so cruelly cut short, and his princess had been returned to the ranks of the living, still mortal, but this time to a wizarding household.

“Well,” he told her and whispered the name he had known her by. “I lost you once you precious thing, I will be damned if I lose you again.”

~v~


	2. Chapter One: As the World Falls Down

They had named her Sarah. Sarah Rose Potter. How fitting that her new parents, although not royals like she had been born to in her previous life, had bestowed upon her the Hebrew name for princess. One would almost think that James and Lily Potter _knew_ what their daughter had once been.

Regrettably, at least from his standpoint, Jareth could not look in on little Sarah. He simply did not have the time. He had a kingdom to rule in the Underground, a network of banks to preside over in the Aboveground, and his duty to the wished-aways of every realm which had ever heard the story (and there were a lot of those). So in order to keep tabs on her, he sent a small group of more intelligent goblins to live in the Potters’ home.

This was how he learned about the potential danger to his precious one’s new life. There was a prophecy which applied to the self-styled Dark Lord Voldemort, and one of two infants: the first of which was little Sarah, the other a boy whose name was Nathan Lightbucket or something silly like that. It was just as well that goblins were excellent mimics or he might not have ever learned of the mortal peril that Sarah might very well be in.

“King!” the leader of the Godric’s Hollow hoard shrieked as it appeared in the throne room that night. “King!”

Jareth had been bouncing the latest wished away on his knee at that point and addressed the diminutive goblin with a carefully disinterested. “Yes?”

“I has news,” it told him. “About the precious.”

“What of her?” Jareth asked, finally looking up at the goblin.

His subject had subsequently informed him, of the visitor to the Potter residence, an old man with half-moon spectacles who had brought with him news of the prophecy.

“What is this prophecy?” Jareth demanded, handing the baby off to a nearby goblin so as to offer this matter his full attention. “Quickly, and in detail,”

The goblin had spoken in a deep rasping voice:

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches_

_Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies._

_And the Dark Lord will mark this child as his equal_

_They will have the power that the Dark Lord knows not_

_And either must die at the hand of the other_

_for neither can live while the other survives_

_The One with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord_

_will be born as the seventh month dies._

Jareth nodded, deeply troubled, and dismissed the goblin back to its post. Hopefully the prophecy pertained to the boy, and not little Sarah, but he would still look into ways to keep her safe.

Through his spies in little Sarah’s home, Jareth learned of the plan to appoint her godfather, Sirius Black as the family’s protector- and of his subsequent refusal on the grounds that he was too obvious a choice, given his closeness to James Potter. In the same way he also learned of the appointment of Peter Pettigrew to the position that Black had refused.

Not sharing his hopefully-eventual-father-in-law’s trust in the Pettigrew, Jareth positioned wards of his own around Sarah’s home. Sad to say that not a week after he placed them, the wards were triggered. Fearing for his would-be future queen, the Goblin King himself rode out to tackle the threat to her life.

He arrived in the Potter’s little home just in time to see Sarah’s mother fall in her defence, and before he had chance to intervene, Voldemort trained his wand upon the innocent baby, who perceiving danger even at her tender age, had begun to cry and…

_“Avarda Kedavra!”_

In a flash of garish green light the Dark Lord vanished, leaving only his crumpled garments behind him. Sarah’s continued keening wail was like music to Jareth’s ear, as it assured him that she was still alive. The king’s relief however, was diminished by the amount of blood on her little face. Crossing the room in a heartbeat, Jareth scooped her up out of her cradle and held her close.

“Hush now,” he cooed, rocking her gently, injecting a soothing note into his voice which babies could not resist. Sarah; for all the iron will she had had in the past, and would again as she grew up; was no exception. “There now, that’s better.”

 He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead- healing the wound ending the pain inflicted upon her by the curse and wiped her face. The wound was a jagged cut on her forehead; a curse scar, which would be with her for the rest of her life. It pained him to see any child harmed, but this was the soul whom he had loved, and would come to again as she approached adulthood; seeing her little face marred by the final blow of the war into which she had been born enraged him.

It was only when the sound of footsteps approaching the nursery reached his ears, that Jareth put Sarah back in her cradle. She stared up at him, plaintively through the same large green eyes that she had had a lifetime ago when she had won back the baby brother that she had so carelessly wished away.

“You still have such cruel eyes little one,” he told her, fondly, and promptly made himself invisible to mortal eyes as the nursery door opened to admit a dour looking individual in black robes and greasy black hair which fell to his shoulders.

The man, it seemed wasn’t there for Sarah. He instead rushed to the mother’s lifeless body, clutched her close and broke down in tears.

“Lily, Lily, Lily,” he wept, pressing a kiss to her still warm forehead, her eyes, her lips. “I’m so sorry Lily. I’m so, so sorry.”

The way the man acted, as if little Sarah was not in the room, did little to endear him to the Goblin King, grief stricken or not, his priority ought to have been the child. All the same though, he did feel for the other man: he recognized a man in love when he saw one, and having only ceased grieving himself on the rebirth of his beloved, he could not deny the stir of sympathy for him.

The man wept over Lily Potter’s body until a new sound roused him. The roar of an engine drawing close to the house, the man stiffened and leapt to his feet looking panicked. Then he disappeared with a loud crack, startling the silent Sarah and making her cry again. Jareth scowled at the spot on which the greasy haired man had disappeared, but before he could move to comfort the baby again another man burst into the room.

“Pahfuh!” Sarah cried out, pulling herself to her feet and reaching out to the newcomer.

“Thank you Merlin!” the man breathed, his eyes locked on Sarah. He was across the room in a heartbeat and had the baby in his arms, holding her close and burying his face in her soft dark baby hair. “Hey little Bambi, its ok, Padfoot’s got you.”

Padfoot.

Jareth finally relaxed, knowing that little Sarah was in safe hands. This man was her godfather, a man who could be trusted to care for the precious little one until she was old enough to come to him. Calling to the Goblins, Jareth took his leave of the house in which Sarah’s world had fallen down far too soon.

* * *

Hazel Evans had been in Denmark following on a mission for the Order of the Phoenix when she got the news about Lily and James Potter’s murder. The joy she might have felt at the end of the war was overwhelmed by the grief over losing her twin sister and one of her truest friends in one fell swoop. She wasn’t even angry at hearing the news through the Danish press,  _yet._

Hazel burst out of Sirius Black’s fireplace, landing indelicately on the discoloured carpet. “Padfoot?” she called. “Sirius? You in here?”

No reply. A single spell told Hazel that the flat was empty.

Hazel entered the kitchen and finding an old envelope on the table and a well chewed muggle pen, she scribbled a note asking him to contact her when he saw it. Then she returned to the floo to check in with Moony.

“Moony!” she yelled. “Moony? Are you here?”

 “Spitfire?” The werewolf’s head appeared around the kitchen door. “You heard then?”

Hazel felt cold; she wasn’t used to seeing her friend looking so grave. “Please Remus, please, tell me it’s not true. Tell me they’re not…”

Remus bowed his head. “I wish I could.”

Hazel felt cold. Lily, her twin sister and James, Prongs, her friend, her brother in law… She swallowed. “A-and Sarah…?”

“Sarah’s fine Spitfire,” Remus told her. “She’s with your sister and her husband.”

“What?” Hazel demanded; Sarah had already been displaying signs of accidental magic the last time Hazel had seen her before Lily and James had gone into hiding. “Moony, why is she…? Tuney will _hate_ her, just because she’s a witch.”

“There was no one else Haze,” he returned. “You were out of the country, I’m a werewolf…”

“And Padfoot?” Hazel pressed. “He’s her godfather, Moony- he should have been the one to take her if I was unavailable…”

“Azkaban,”

“W-what?” Hazel stared at her friend.

“He was James and Lily’s secret keeper, Spitfire,” Remus told her. “He led Voldemort to them…”

“No,” Hazel shook her head, she screwed her eyes shut and slammed her hands over her ears. “No he wouldn’t…”

“He also killed Wormtail and twelve muggles… with a single curse.” Remus continued. “He had us all fooled Spitfire…”

“NO!” Hazel roared, and the next thing she knew she had her wand trained on Remus’ face. “No, I don’t believe it, _won’t_ believe it!”

“Hazel…” Remus said softly.

Hazel dropped her wand and crumpled against her best friend. “He can’t have…” she choked out between sobs. “Wouldn’t have…”

Remus held her as she sobbed, stroking her hair until she cried herself out.

* * *

Sarah, it seemed, had become invisible.

Two days had passed since little Sarah had lost her parents and the Goblin King was already impatient to see where she had been placed. He had just set a runner off and the baby- who was teething- had been given a soothing salve and had settled down to sleep in the nursery. Jareth had repaired to his study to look at a report from one of the outlying towns. Having finished he pulled a crystal from the air and bid it show him Sarah.

Nothing happened.

With a frown Jareth smashed the crystal and tried again. Still nothing. After the third attempt, and the third stubbornly blank crystal, Jareth began to suspect something was blocking her from magical sight. He knew that she was alive through the bond which had led Jareth to her on the day she was born; but alive did not necessarily mean safe.

Jareth looked up at the portrait that he had had commissioned of his beloved many years ago hanging on the opposite wall.

“Where are you?” he asked her. “Are you safe?”

* * *

After Hazel had cried herself out she and Remus drowned their sorrows in a large bottle of fire whiskey. Early the next afternoon- once the hangover cleared- Hazel was struck by the realization that she didn’t believe that Sirius had done what Remus said he had been accused of. She wouldn’t believe it either, until she had proof. She showered and dressed and flooed to the Ministry of Magic, hurrying to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Esme Figg; a former Hufflepuff, a year behind Hazel at school; sat at the reception desk. She offered Hazel a sympathetic look. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” Hazel nodded, trying not to feel the stab of resentment that offers of sympathy always brought up in her. “Would it be possible to see the transcript for Sirius Black’s trial?”

Trial transcripts were available for public perusal, though it was common knowledge that most people just believed what the Daily Prophet reported. Hazel was not most people.

“Of course,” Esme nodded. “If you’d care to take a seat, it’ll take a few moments.”

Hazel nodded her thanks and sat on one of the lumpy armchairs in the department’s reception area. Esme returned, frowning.

“I’m sorry Miss Evans but the transcript you requested isn’t available.”

Hazel blinked. “Has someone already taken it?”

“I mean that there is no evidence of that trial, but in light of… recent events, there are a lot of trials going on at the moment…”

“I was told that Sirius had already been convicted,” Hazel told her, puzzled. “Shouldn’t the script already be here?”

Esme maintained her polite smile. “As I said, the department is rather busy at the moment, it might take a few days to clear the backlog. I will send you an owl as soon as the log clears.” The smile slipped and the real Esme- with whom Hazel had had a friendly rivalry on the Quidditch pitch- appeared. “I’m sorry Hazel, but there’s nothing else I can do.”

Hazel nodded, not satisfied. “Alright. I’ll look out for it.”

With that, she turned on her heel, and left the office. The one other thing on her to do list that day was to visit her surviving sister and check in on their niece. Sarah was her priority, despite lingering feelings towards the man who the world seemed to think had betrayed Lily and Prongs.

* * *

Out of Harry and Rose Evans’ three daughters Hazel had been the messy one; the sort whose bedroom was  _always_ untidy. She had been a tomboy who trailed muddy footprints through the house on entering. When she arrived on Privet Drive, Hazel was horrified. Petunia had always been a neat freak, even when they were little; even so, Hazel had not expected to turn up on the set of  _The Stepford Wives._ Tuney had, it seemed, gone out of her way to surround herself with what she saw as  _normal_ , none magical.

How in Merlin’s name was a little witch supposed to survive here, in a place where one could almost imagine mess being considered a criminal offence?

It didn’t take long for the former Gryffindor seeker to find number four. She strode up to the door and rang the bell. A few minutes later the door was opened by her sister, who looked somewhat flustered and was trying to hold a struggling, rotund toddler on her hip.

‘ _You’ll hurt yourself if you’re not careful Tuney,_ ’ Hazel thought, glancing at her fat little nephew- Dudley if she recalled correctly (poor thing). “Hi Tuney,”

“Hazel,” her sister returned, looking slightly frightened as she glanced around the street in what she apparently thought was a covert manner. “What brings you here? I thought you were abroad.”

“I was,” Hazel nodded. “But I heard the news about Lily and James- look, could I come in?”

A look of fear and anger flashed over Petunia’s face. “Why would you want to come in?”

Hazel frowned. “We’re sisters Tuney, and I heard that Sarah was here, I’d like to see her.”

“She’s asleep,” said Petunia, quickly.

“Why should that make any difference Petunia?” Hazel asked, brow furrowing in suspicion. “All I want is to see our niece, as I’ve already seen my nephew, it’s only fair that you…”

Hazel broke off at the sound of a sudden scream from inside the house. A child’s scream. Sarah.

The red haired witch barged past her older sister and stopped dead, staring at the scene playing out before her. Her brother in law- a veritable walrus of a man- was looming over her niece, in his hand a leather belt. The screaming toddler was huddled against a wall, clearly terrified of her uncle.

Hazel saw red. She clicked her wrist, dislodging her wand from its holster and caught it deftly in her left hand. “ _Accio belt!_ ”

The horrid leather strap flew out of Vernon Dursley’s sausage like fingers and Hazel caught it in her free hand. Had the situation not been so serious, Hazel might have found the look of terrified bafflement on her brother in law’s face as he realized that he no longer had the belt in his hand and that he had a witch in his home.

“How _dare_ you?” she snarled, squaring up to the huge muggle. “How _dare_ you attack a defenceless _child?_ What has she _ever_ done to you? To deserve such a punishment?”

“You wouldn’t understand, freak!” Vernon spat in reply.

“Oh wouldn’t I?” Hazel’s mismatched eyes narrowed dangerously. “I know you Vermin- and don’t try to convince me that I got your name wrong- before you showed up in her life, Tuney didn’t _hate_ Lily and I, or magic as a whole. What reason do you have to hate my world? Would you hate your own son if he turned out to be a wizard?”

“Now _see_ here…!” Vernon seethed, but Hazel was in no mood to be drenched in the muggle’s spittle. She flicked her wand and silenced him

“That is quite enough from you thank you,” she spat and rounded on her one remaining sibling. Petunia, she noticed with no small amount of satisfaction, was pale and trembling. “You were letting this happen?”

Petunia’s brilliant defence sounded something very like “ _Mimble wimble,”_

“Merlin’s pants Petunia, she’s little more than a baby!” Hazel growled. “Even if she wasn’t likely the most famous person in the entire wizarding world, she’s a child! She’s family! Does that mean so little to you that you would let your pet walrus harm her just because she’s a witch!?”

Fighting to reign in her whiplash temper, Hazel turned and crouched before Sarah, scrutinising her for damage. A lightning bolt scar stood out starkly against her pale skin and her dark hair looked in serious need of washing. Sarah was pale and drawn and there were dark bags under her beautiful green eyes.

“Hello sweetheart,” Hazel said gently.

“Mama?” Sarah asked.

The innocent question brought tears to Hazel’s eyes. Sarah didn’t remember her. She’d half expected that, she been tiny when Hazel had last seen her.

“Mama?” Sarah asked again, probably wondering why she hadn’t responded.

“Yes darling,” she nodded, more than happy to raise her twin’s daughter as her own. “I’m so sorry that I didn’t come sooner Sarah sweetheart. But I’m here now, and I’m taking you home.”

Hazel opened her arms and Sarah approached her timidly, as if afraid that she would be hurt if she did. The moment that her new daughter was within arms’ reach, Hazel pulled her close. Sarah remained stiff for a moment then, seeming to realize that she was safe, she snuggled into her embrace.

Hazel kissed Sarah’s hair and lifted her up. She turned to face her sister sadly. “You know, when I got here I just wanted to see if she was ok, if she was all I would have asked was that you let me see her from time to time, but now…” She shook her head. “I can’t let her stay here, not now.”

So saying she flicked her wand in Vernon’s direction, lifting the silencing charm she’d placed on him and crossed the threshold of her sister’s home.

* * *

The Goblin King had been trying to scry for little Sarah once more. He had decided that if he couldn’t see her this time then he would send out some of the goblins who had lived in her parents’ home to find her. The crystal showed a red haired woman carrying the child out of a house. The woman looked very like Sarah’s late mother.

The twin, Heather, Holly, or something similar: Jareth didn’t know much about the twin- she had not been a prominent feature in Sarah’s life. He wanted to believe that Sarah was safe in her aunt’s care, but to be on the safe side he would send the goblins to keep watch over her.

* * *

Three days had passed since she had taken Sarah from Petunia’s home and the owl had finally arrived from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in shock. Hazel stared at it in shock.

There had been no trial.

Sirius had been thrown into Azkaban for mass murder without being given a trial. Hazel Evans did not pretend to be an expert on magical law, but everyone knew that every witch or wizard in Britain accused of a crime worthy of Azkaban was legally entitled to trial by veritaserum. So why had Sirius been denied this right?

Hazel would have to take this up with the most influential wizard she knew. Albus Dumbledore.

~v~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Hazel discovers why Sirius didn't get a trial, friends are reunited and there is retribution


	3. Chapter Two: The Owl, The Rat and The Tainted Scar

If Albus Dumbledore was surprised to have Hazel Evans and little Sarah Potter burst out of his fireplace as he was completing the junior crossword in the Daily Prophet he gave no outward sign.

“Hazel,” he smiled, blue eyes twinkling merrily. “Good morning my dear, and little Sarah too, what a pleasant surprise,”

“Sorry Headmaster, but this isn’t a social call,” Hazel informed him, tersely.

“Of course it isn’t,” he nodded. “I can only apologise for not being the one to inform you of James and Lily’s passing.”

“Not at all sir,” terseness had become biting sarcasm. “I can’t think of any better way to learn about my twin sister and brother in law’s murder than through the Danish press, but that isn’t why I’m here. I need to know why Sirius went to Azkaban without standing trial.”

The twinkle vanished. “Sirius Black confessed to his crimes, Hazel. I am sorry that you lost such three such close friends, and your sister in one fell swoop but…”

“But nothing, _sir,_ ” the redhead snapped, startling the child in her arms who began to cry. “Shh, baby I’m sorry. Shhh,” when little Sarah was calm again, Hazel returned her mismatched eyes to her former headmaster and continued quietly, her tone waspish. “I went to the Ministry and they have no record of Sirius ever standing trial- you and I both know that that’s illegal, hell, even Bellatrix LeStrange has stood trial.” That trial had made the front page that morning. “And I’m sure you’ll agree that her crimes were every bit as bad as the ones that Sirius was accused of- worse even, because her career as a death eater started before she even left school.”

Dumbledore nodded, conceding Hazel’s point. “So you want Mr Black to stand trial for his crimes?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “It’s the only way I will actually believe that he is guilty sir. Even muggles say that everyone is innocent until proven guilty.”

“Very well, Miss Evans,” Dumbledore said with a sigh. “I will see what I can do- though if I do this, you must do something for me,”

“As long as it doesn’t involve giving Sarah back to Petunia,”

“Hazel…”

“Not happening,” she said stiffly. “I only went to the house to visit Sarah, but when I saw Vernon looming over her with a belt I couldn’t just leave her there. I can’t and won’t send her back there.”

“I believe it would be better for her to grow up away from the wizarding world.”

“I disagree, sir,” Hazel retorted. “I don’t see why she can’t have both- tons of Halfbloods get it that way, so why can’t Sarah?”

“Because every wizarding child in the country will know who she is- I think she is far better off growing up away from the pressures of her fame.”

“You say that as if you expect me to spoil her rotten,” a note of indignation began to colour her tone. “And, as I am Sarah’s closest living magical relative, I think you’ll find that you don’t have a leg to stand on even _trying_ to take her away from me.”

She adjusted Sarah on her hip and glowered at him.

“Very well,” Dumbledore nodded, though not without reluctance. “I will not ask you to return Sarah to live with your sister, although I would advise that you make arrangements with Petunia to have the child stay with them for at least three consecutive weeks each year until she turns seventeen. I placed wards over the house, and having Sarah stay on the property for at least that long will maintain them for the rest of the year.”

“No,” Hazel growled. “Sarah will _not_ set foot in that house again, not after what Petunia allowed to happen to her. If blood wards are the only way to protect them then I will provide the blood, since I am a closer relation to Petunia than Sarah is, the wards will be stronger.”

* * *

He had been in Azkaban for about ten days when they came for him. Upon hearing human feet approaching his cell Sirius Black had transformed back into his human form and moved to sit by the his cell window. It came as something as a shock to him when they opened his cell and cuffed his hands behind his back.

“Spring cleaning are we?” he asked cheekily as the trio of Aurors, none of whom he recognized, frogmarched him from the cell.

“Quiet Black,” the one to his immediate left growled. “You can speak all you like at your trial this afternoon.”

 _Trial?_ Sirius’s heart leapt- he felt like he could fly. Someone out there loved him enough to see that justice was served.

“Well, better late than never I suppose,” he quipped.

“Quiet Black,” the Auror warned him, raising his wand threateningly.

If his hands hadn’t been restrained as they were Sirius would have raised them in a placating gesture. He settled for a nod, taking care to press his lips together into a tight line.

He would never remember the journey to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as anything more than an elated blur. Sirus had nothing to hide- not even the fact that he was an illegal animagus. Hell ten days in the company of the dementors was _more_ than punishment for so petty a crime.

Sirius came down to Earth with a bump as he was led into the court room- the full wizengamot had assembled for this trial. Yes he was innocent, but that didn’t stop him from feeling nervous. They were an intimidating bunch all sitting there stony faced in their red robes.

Without a sound he allowed his lips to be wet with veritaserum and was led to the interrogation chair and the chains curled around his limbs, restraining him.

“Please state your name,” said the thin reedy voice of, Elvendork Rutlidge, the Minister for Magic.

“Sirius Orion Black.” said Sirius. “Also known as Padfoot to a select few,”

“How old are you Mr Black?”

“Twenty one,” he returned, knowing that these questions were a mere formalilty to ensure the potion was effective.

“You attended Hogwarts did you not Mr Black?” the Minister continued. “Which house were you sorted into?”.

“Yes, and I was a Gryffindor.”

The shock which followed his statement about his house surprised him- more than a few members of the Wizengamot had attended Hogwarts while he had been there.

“Mr Black,” said Rutlidge, once the courtroom was silent once more. “You stand accused of the mass murder of twelve muggles, Peter Dennis Pettigrew, and of being a Death Eater, how do you plead?”

“Not guilty Minister,” Sirius declared, proudly. “On all counts.”

More ripples of shock ran through the assembled witches and wizards. One man cried a protest that the veritaserum was defective and he ought to be given a second dose.

“I will have order!” Rutlidge commanded, banging his gabble. When at last order had been restored, the elderly wizard continued. “Mr Black, it is well known that James and Lily Potter went into hiding with their daughter, Sarah-Rose Potter, under the protection of the Fidelius Charm. Were you, or were you not, their secret keeper?”

“I was,” he announced. “But thinking that I was too obvious a choice, I convinced James and Lily to switch to someone else.”

“If not you,” said Rutlidge, clearly shocked by this revelation. “Then who?”

“Peter Pettigrew,” Sirius said. “I was the one to perform the charm.”

“So, am I to understand that, on discovering James and Lily Potter had been murdered you hunted down Mr Pettigrew and murdered him, and those twelve muggles in a fit of rage?”

“I didn’t kill anyone Minister,” said Sirius. “While it’s true that I did hunt Pettigrew down,” he could not and would not refer to that little worm by his first name. “I did not cast the blasting spell which killed those muggles- and had my wand not been destroyed, you might have been able to prove that.”

“How convenient,” came the silken purr of Lucius Malfoy from the second row back behind the Minister.

“Indeed,” Rutlidge agreed. “However, since he speaks under the influence of Veritaserum that must be the truth. Now Mr Black, what spell did you cast to kill Mr Pettigrew.”

“None sir, I believe that Pettigrew is still alive.”

“How can he be?”

“Because he is an animagus,” said Sirius. “A rat. He must have cast the spell and transformed, and made his escape into the sewer pipes.”

“An animagus?” Rutlidge echoed. “And what makes you so sure of this Mr Black?”

“Because he and I learned the skill together,” Sirius told him. “Along with James Potter and Hazel Evans.” He swallowed, thickly, knowing that he owed Hazel and Remus huge apologies already- he didn’t want to blow all of their secrets. “We learned between third and fifth year.”

“Miss Evans has come forward and registered as an animagus,” A witch announced. “She has paid her fine too.”

“Very well,” Rutlidge raised the gabble. “I declare the defendant innocent of all charges put to him, but he is required to pay a fine of three hundred galleons, for the crime of being an illegal animagus. Court is adjourned.”

The gabble came down and Rutlidge rose and began to pick his way towards the back entrance of the courtroom.

Sirius only narrowly avoided the urge to crow in triumph as the chains fell away from his arms and legs. He was free. Innocent. Having to pay the fine was annoying, but he could manage it, what with his inheritance from Uncle Alphard. He stood and allowed a somewhat shamefaced Auror to lead him out of the courtroom.

“You can pay your fine on the way out of the department,” said the Auror, helpfully.

Sirius nodded. “I’ll do that.”

Fifteen minutes later, fine paid and feeling lighter than he had done since he had realized that Pettigrew was the spy in the Order’s midst, Sirius Black stepped out of the floo into his flat. He was greeted by the scintillating smell of Chinese food and the sight of Hazel Evans and little Sarah sitting on the sofa.

“Padfoot,” Hazel beamed, rising to greet him and lifting Sarah with her. “I just heard- Esme Figg sent the word with a patronus. I knew you couldn’t have been the spy.”

Merlin, had she always been so beautiful? She’d always been pretty and they had been seeing each other before Dumbledore had sent her off to Denmark on a mission, but standing before him the kid sitting on her hip, Hazel Evans was about the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

“Spitfire,” he smiled, drawing close to her and dropping a kiss on Sarah’s head. “Did you get any spring rolls?”

* * *

Peter Pettigrew had envisioned spending years hiding out in the Weasley’s home. It was peaceful and the family was about as close to Dumbledore as any light family could be. The Burrow was the perfect place to be able to claim that he had been spying on what was left of the Order if any of the Dark Lord’s Followers should happen upon him in the future, whilst living as a pampered pet.

That _had_ been his plan, after one of the brood- he still hadn’t learned their names- had picked him up and carried him into Molly Weasley’s homely kitchen and asked for some food for the rat he had found.

Now though…

Peter wasn’t safe, not since he had seen his own face on the front page of the Daily Prophet along with the news that he was alive, and dangerous. The public had to be on the lookout for a rat which was missing a toe on its front foot. A rat just like the newly christened Scabbers…

He had to leave.

Bugger

Peter lingered in the Burrow, hiding in the attic with just the ghoul for company, until late in the night; until he was sure that the whole house was asleep, before scurrying from the ramshackle house.

He just had to make it across the property line and he would be home free.

A shadow passed overhead.

Not far now, just a few more fee…

Peter squealed as something snatched him up and lifted him higher and higher into the air. He writhed in the thing’s grasp and squealed again, as terror made his blood run cold.

A barn owl

He had been caught by a barn owl.

He must have blacked out in his terror because the next thing Peter knew he was waking up; still in his rat form; on a rough wooden surface in a room which reminded him eerily of one of the Hogwarts Dungeons, one of the ones which the students weren’t allowed into.

“Oh good,” a voice purred from somewhere above him. “You’re awake.”

Peter found himself staring up at the strangest looking man he had ever seen. That the man wasn’t human was obvious, his features were too sharp to belong to a human: eyes, ears, teeth. He thought that the man might be a vampire, but what vampire would have hair like this man’s wild mane?

The man smirked.

Peter shivered.

“No Mr Pettigrew, you are correct,” he said. “I am not a vampire, but by the time I am finished with you, you might wish I was.”

One leather covered hand flexed and a transparent ball appeared in the man’s fingers.

“This is a crystal,” the man informed him. “Nothing more, but inside it holds every nightmare you have ever had, and now you lucky old devil you, you get to relive each of them, in real time, and then you shall live them all over again until your heart stops beating. And I am delighted to be the one to inform you that, thanks to this, you’ll be living a _very_ long time to come. Here, catch.”

The man tossed the crystal towards him, and when it hit him, instead of shattering like glass, it popped like a bubble. As the first nightmare- the cracked porcelain face of his mother’s old Jack-in-the-box super imposed itself over the man’s, its empty glass eyes glinting yellow in the candle light Peter decided that the man was right, he _did_ wish the man was just a vampire- the worst thing a vampire could do to you was kill you.

* * *

“OW!”

Hazel and Sirius froze at the sound of Sarah’s cry. They had been sat at the table having breakfast and beginning to plan how they were going to raise Sarah- together of course, since James and Lily would want her to have two parents- when the toddler had cried out.

She sat, completely unhurt in the high chair which Hazel had liberated from the house in Godric’s Hollow.

“Mama, ow!” she declared, pointing one chubby, porridge coated hand at the window. “Pafuh, ow!”

Sitting on the window ledge was a handsome barn owl, a letter clamed in its beak. The two adults let out a sigh of relief, thank Merlin she wasn’t hurt.

“I’ll clean this one up, if you let the bird in,” Hazel offered.

Sirius nodded and rose to open the window for the owl to enter but as it passed him, Sirius all but forgot about the bird, at the sight of a familiar rodent lying, immobile on the ledge.

“Merlin’s beard,” Sirius gasped.

“What’s wrong?” Hazel asked from behind him. “Pads?”

Sirius snatched up the little bastard who had ruined all of their lives and turned to show him to Hazel. “Look who came crawling out of the woodwork.”

“Wormy,” Sarah, who was no longer covered in the remains of her breakfast, declared. Recognizing the little bastard just as easily as Sirius and Hazel had. “Wormy seep?”

“That’s right sweetie,” Hazel agreed. “Wormy sleeps.”

She took the letter which the owl had dropped onto the table and opened it. Sirius saw her frown.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Here,” she said, holding the letter out to him.

The note consisted of a single line of cursive, written in black ink:

_Who better to hand over a traitor to the authorities than those he most betrayed._

_-a friend_

Sirius and Hazel’s eyes locked, twin frowns on their faces. Who would have done this? Most witches and wizards would have just called the Aurors if they came across a wanted criminal; not sent him to someone else to hand over.

“Hi Ow,” said Sarah happily.

The owl, had moved from his perch on the back of the chair to the lip of the highchair tray, and was allowing Sarah to stroke his feathers.

“Pitty Ow,” she told it, and the bird preened.

“Yes,” Hazel agreed. “He is a pretty owl, now sweetheart, it’s time to say goodbye to him- we have to get dressed and see uncle Moony.”

“Mooey!”

“Mooey,” Hazel agreed, plucking Sarah from her highchair. “Say bye-bye to Mr Owl now love.”

“Bye-bye,” Sarah parroted and blew the bird a kiss. “Ma.”

The owl didn’t leave the flat until Hazel had carried Sarah out of the kitchen. It gave one screeching call and flew out of the window and disappeared over the London skyline.

* * *

Nobody noticed the white barn owl flying over Diagon Alley, owls were so commonplace in the wizarding world that Jareth could essentially come and go as he pleased in his avian form. The Goblin King flew in through the window of his office and shifting back into his more commonplace form. He had a meeting with the matriarch of one of the oldest wizarding families in the country, in a few minutes.

Jareth waved his hand, slipping behind the glamour he used when dealing with wizards in this capacity and settled at his desk to wait for the woman to arrive.

Sarah had called his owl form pretty, had stroked his feathers and blown him a kiss. Of course, it meant little, given her infancy, but maybe, just maybe- this time around she would be more open to a relationship with him when she grew old enough to understand what he had to offer her.

Now that he had seen Sarah properly, in the light of day, for the first time since the day of her birth, Jareth could see that she would not grow to resemble the portrait he kept of her former self. Her eyes, while green were a brighter shade, positively emerald instead of the deep jade they had been before. Her hair was black rather than brown and her skin was a few shades darker- but that was most likely due to her not being a princess in this life: royalty in that realm did seem to prefer their females have a complete lack of skin colour.

He would have to commission a new portrait

A knock on the door brought Jareth back to the present.

“Enter,” he barked.

“Excuse me, Your Majesty,” Ragnold, the Bank’s manager bowed upon entering the office. “But Mrs Longbottom is here.”

“Show her in then Ragnold,” Jareth nodded, and tried not to wince at the sight of the stuffed vulture which bobbed on the woman’s hat as she entered.

* * *

Remus Lupin had been wandering around the park for about half an hour, looking for Hazel and Sarah, whom he had arranged to meet up with the day before, when:

“Mooey!” a child crowed. “Mooey!”

Remus scanned the area and found the toddler advancing on him at a brisk toddle that she had not been capable of when he had last seen her in person. As she reached him Remus sank into a crouch and scooped her up in a hug.

“Hello Sarah.”

“Hi Mooey,”

“Yeah,” Hazel agreed, appearing close behind her niece. “Hi Mooey.”

“Mama, Mooey.” Sarah announced, twisting in Remus’ arms to look at Hazel, who nodded in response.

Remus frowned. “She thinks you’re…?”

Hazel nodded. “Don’t have the heart to correct her.” She sighed, and together the two old friends returned to the bench which Hazel had left their belongings by. “Padfoot and I were talking about this this morning, and…”

“You’ve seen him then?”

“Of course I have, Sarah and I sort of pinched his flat while he wasn’t using it- and he hasn’t kicked us out yet, think he appreciates the company.”

“I’m sure he does,” Remus agreed, grinning. “So, are you two…?”

“Back on again? No, not yet, but I- it’s looking like we might be heading that way though.”

“I owe him an apology,” Remus said. “Merlin’s pants I was so certain that he was…”

“That I was the spy?” Sirius’ voice broke in softly, from behind Remus. Remus turned sharply and took in the man he had wrongly believed had turned traitor for over a year now. He looked pale, drawn, but happy. “I’m not surprised, I thought the same of you, you know.”

“Forgive me?” Remus asked.

“Of course,” Sirius nodded. “If you’ll forgive me?”

“Of course.”

The pair shared a brief hug of reconciliation, and when they parted, Sarah had managed to worm her way into her godfather’s embrace.

“Hello Bambi,” he smiled and kissed her forehead, then looking at Hazel added. “Hey babe,”

“Hey,” she returned, moving to stand beside Sirius. “Did you take care of our pest problem?”

“Yeah,” Sirius nodded. “Left the little rat with Moody.”

“Little rat?” Remus echoed. “You mean…?”

“Yes,” Hazel smiled and glanced up at the darkening sky. “Why don’t we head back up to the flat, we’ll fill you in over a cuppa. Smells like rain.”

* * *

“You know, I’m not an expert but I’m sure that scar should have faded a bit by now,” Hazel remarked to her boyfriend as she entered the living room after putting Sarah to bed. “I mean, it’s still as stark as it was when I picked her up from Petunia’s- over a month ago, I think we need to talk to somebody about it.”

“Who?” Sirius asked, pulling her close as she joined him on the sofa. “She’s up to date with her check-ups at St Mungo’s and none of the healers have said anything about it.”

“I was thinking we could go to the goblins.”

Sirius stared at her. “The goblins?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “They’re renowned for their knowledge of magic that we wand users have long since forgotten.”

“How do you know that?” Sirius demanded. “I know you did NEWT History but how in Merlin’s name do you know that?”

“I found a book of goblin lore in a used book shop while I was in Denmark. It’s a fascinating read- apparently the Gringotts goblins are just one of many races. At least half of the healing techniques we use today come from them.”

Sirius didn’t look convinced. “Even if we did take her to the goblins- who’s to say that they could even do anything for her- it’s a curse scar for Merlin’s sake.”

“If they can’t then we’re no worse off than we are now.” Hazel returned, her mismatched eyes flashing. “We aren’t losing anything by asking for their help.”

Sirius nodded. “Alright, we’ll do it.”

Hazel kissed him.

Three days passed before Hazel and Sirius managed to get an appointment with the goblin in charge of the Potter family vaults, a diminutive potbellied goblin who introduced himself as Grimroot. Grimroot led them through to a spacious office furnished with desk and two chairs on one side and a single higher chair on the other. The goblin moved to the single chair and bade Hazel and Sirius sit in the other two.

“Now,” he asked once everyone was settled. “How can I help you today sir and miss?”

“I’m worried about this scar on my niece’s forehead,” Hazel announced, and pulled the little pink hat from Sarah’s head, revealing the stark lightning bolt.

Grimroot’s eyes widened at the sight of the scar. He hopped down from his chair and moved closer to Sarah. Sarah snuggled closer to Hazel and clutched at the sleeve of her robes, but that was the only sign of discomfort she displayed.

Grimroot touched one long finger to the scar and frowned. “Hmm,” he said after a pause. “I believe that I need to take this to a higher authority.”

“Higher authority?” Hazel asked, exchanging a glance with her boyfriend.

“Indeed,” said Grimroot. “I speak of the leader of the goblin nation and will send you an owl with his response. I will not lie, I do not like the look of that scar- there is something… foul about it.”

“Foul?” Sirius echoed, brokenly as Hazel clutched Sarah closer, as if she thought she could protect he little one from everything that might wish to do her harm. “What do you mean?”

“I cannot say for certain,” Grimroot admitted. “But I have seen a great many curse scars, but none which carry such a taint. There is an evil to it which no child should be burdened with. Remain here while I see whether his Majesty is amenable.”

And just like that, the goblin waddled from the office.

“His Majesty?” Sirius asked, once the door had clicked shut behind Grimroot. “Since when have the goblins had a king?”

Hazel shrugged, bouncing a restless Sarah up and down on her knee. “I didn’t know they had- I’ve heard of clan chiefs, but not goblin royalty.”

* * *

Jareth smiled to himself as he stood watching with an intense feeling of satisfaction as a wished away met his new parents. The two peasants were clearly besotted by the son he had procured for them- the little changeling, who had no memory of life before he had been wished away, would make a perfect edition to their family.

“Your Majesty?”

Jareth tore his gaze away from the idyllic scene playing out before him to face the rotund goblin in Gringotts’ Livery who had just appeared before him. “Yes?”

“Sire, the precious…”

 “What of her?” Jareth asked. What business was she of this goblin’s? Sarah was not yet two years old, she was of no particular interest to the Aboveground goblins yet.

“Her guardian, Miss Hazel Evans, brought her into the bank, worried about the scar on her brow.”

“I know of the scar,” he nodded.

“It is tainted,” The goblin told him. “I believe it is a soul vessel.”

“WHAT!?” Jareth demanded.

This was worrying. If it was true, how had he missed it? He had recognized a malignance when he had healed the wound and sealed the scar, but he had taken that to be a result of the downfall of the self-styled Dark Lord. How hadn’t he noticed the taint when he had been mere inches away from Sarah just days later?

“Yes Majesty,” the goblin confirmed. “I believed that you would wish to know- the child being who she is. I came to you almost immediately. The precious and her guardians await you in Ragnok’s office in the bank.”

Jareth vanished.

He appeared in the corridor on which the offices were located and not even bothering to don his usual glamour as he entered the room containing Sarah, her mother’s twin, and her godfather.

“You’re him aren’t you?” the woman asked, staring at him. “You’re the Goblin King?”

Jareth might have laughed as the witch parroted the first words which Sarah had spoken to him in her previous life. “Indeed.”

Sarah appeared to recognize him. “Hi,” she said brightly. “Hi oo,”

“Hello little one,” Jareth smiled. “What has been done to you then?” he cast a glance at the woman who held Sarah on her lap and indicated that he wished to take the child from her. “May I…?”

The aunt offered no objection and Sarah went to him willingly. Jareth had to remind himself that this meant nothing- she was still a babe and he was familiar to her. He removed one of his gloves; teasing it from his fingers with his teeth; and laid the now bare hand over her marred brow.

Oh great Danu, how had he failed to notice this… this abomination which was, even now trying to burrow into and join itself to her soul. It had already made begun to feed on her magic. Sarah Potter, once the princess he had lost his heart too, had been latched onto by a portion of the soul of the monster bound to her by prophecy.

The wand users had a name for that. What was it- hor-something…

Horclump?

No, that was a sort of giant spiky mushroom.

 _Horcrux!_ Yes, that was it!

He shuddered, quite involuntarily.

“What is it?” Sarah’s aunt asked. “Grimroot said that there was something evil in her scar. Is it hurting her?”

“Not yet,” Jareth replied. “But it will if it is not removed.”

“And can you?” Sarah’s godfather asked, finally breaking his silence. “Remove the thing, I mean.”

“I can,” Jareth nodded. “Although it will cause her some discomfort.”

Actually, no, it would probably cause her some considerable pain- maybe even make her ill for a day or so until she recovered from the ordeal; it all depended on just how much damage the remnant had already done to Sarah’s magical well spring.

“But she’ll recover?” the man asked, as Sarah’s aunt entwined her fingers with his. “And the scar will fade?”

“Fade yes, but curse scars never fully heal.”

“Get it out of her!” Sarah’s aunt commanded, then remembering just who she was talking to she added in a softer tone which spoke of a caregiver desperate to do right by her charge. “ _Please,_ Your Majesty.”

“Calm yourself madam,” Jareth said soothingly. “I shall of course remove it, frankly it would be remise of me not to. Although this will be unpleasant for her, you have my word as king that she will be fine.”

“Then please,” the witch whispered. “Please, do it.”

Jareth nodded. He sent a silent prayer to the old gods that he was strong enough not to stop when Sarah inevitably started screaming and adjusted his hold on the precious child.

He touched the scar with his finger tips and reaching out with his magic, he began to gently tease the magical parasite out of Sarah’s head.

The piece of soul began to put up a fight.

Sarah began to scream.

* * *

When Sarah began to scream Hazel clutched Sirius’ arm. Sirius had gone worryingly pale, not that she could blame him; he had confided in her, just after they had picked up their relationship again, that while he was in Azkaban he had dreamed of hearing Lily, James and Sarah screaming, of seeing their bodies, and of reliving that night only to enter the nursery and find Sarah as cold and lifeless as Lily and James had been.

And then the screaming stopped, and Hazel became aware of a new sound. The most beautiful music she had ever heard. Eyelids which she had not known she had closed fluttered open and found the source of the music.

The Goblin King was singing.

Merlin, his voice was sublime. She had no idea _what_ the man… goblin… hell she didn’t know what he was- was singing, but she didn’t want him to stop.

Sarah seemed as enthralled by the song as Hazel was, more so perhaps, because her little niece didn’t seem aware of anything beside the song. Her green eyes were wide and trained upon the king, and her mouth hung open slightly in childish wonder.

A short time later; it could have been minutes or moments; the King’s song came to an end and as he removed his un-gloved hand from Sarah’s forehead, a writhing black tendril of something smoky came away in his fingers.

The Goblin King flicked his wrist and all of a sudden the horrific thing which had been hiding away inside Sarah’s scar was encased in a glass ball.

* * *

As he encased the remnant of soul in a crystal Jareth leaned against the desk to steady himself. The thing had put up quite a struggle to remain where it was, which meant that Jareth had been forced to call upon spells which he had not used since he was in the school room- invoking the elements to give their aid in tearing out the parasite without causing Sarah lasting harm.

He handed the baby back to her aunt who held her close, peppering kisses to her downy black hair, her forehead and her cheeks.

“Thank you,” said the witch thickly, looking up at him with sparkling mismatched eyes, and then she recoiled slightly as Sarah was sick over her. Beside her, Sarah’s godfather raised his hand to his mouth to keep from laughing.

“Mama, icky,”

Jareth’s heart was moved by Sarah’s plaintive whimper.

“It’s ok baby,” the aunt cooed, and was promptly rewarded by another shower of vomit.

“Forgive me,” Jareth said to the woman. “I should have warned you that this was a possibility. Keep her warm and comfortable, she will be fine in a day or two.”

“Thank you Sire,” the aunt nodded and rose from her chair, moving slowly and smoothly in an attempt to keep Sarah from being sick again.

It didn’t work.

Sarah’s aunt winced.

* * *

Sarah continued to be ill for the rest of the day, but seemed much improved when she woke the next morning. Hazel and Sirius made a conscious decision to tell nobody about their encounter with the King of the Goblins- not even Remus. After all, even in the wizarding world, who would believe a story about the goblins having a king; especially a king that neither of them could describe as both of them discovered that all memory of what the king looked like had faded from their minds by morning.

~v~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: We skip ahead ten years, a school trip reveals something unexpected about Sarah and the the Girl Who Lived gets her Hogwarts letter.

**Author's Note:**

> Next time: Halloween 1980, Sarah's world falls down and fortunately someone is on hand to save her from life with the Dursleys


End file.
